


Silence/Inversion

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Angst, Choking, Crying, M/M, Toudou's Handkerchief, Yukio has a breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:09:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: Yukio has questions. Saburota has answers but will not give them up willingly. 0





	Silence/Inversion

“I hope you’re happy,” 

He spat out the words that tasted more bitter than any sort of poison on the face of the earth, feeling his veins run icy and then hot all at once as he glared at Saburota Toudou.

Saburota was reading at the time, absolutely pretending not to notice Yukio stalking along the near-abandoned area of town he had been hiding out in. The demon-eater didn’t even look up from his book, idly turning a page and reading another stanza in a poem. Finally, he glanced up at Yukio, gold eyes shimmering with amusement and something that looked faintly like hunger. All at once, an agonizingly familiar sensation congealed in Yukio’s gut- was it pain? Was it fear? Was it excitement? He had a gun in his hand but it was pointing at the ground- Yukio had been pointing guns at people a lot of late. 

Saburota said nothing. The silence creeped under Yukio’s skin and leaked in behind his eyes, wrapping his brain in an uncomfortable layer of angry static. 

“Well? Are you?” Yukio shouted.

“Lower your voice Okumura, you’re too loud,” Saburota sighed, shutting his poetry book with a soft yet pointed ‘pah’. 

“Are you afraid of someone hearing us?” Yukio challenged, needing to say something, anything. “No one is here,” 

The calm silence Saburota was giving off pissed him off the most. Yukio was supposed to be the cold one, not Saburota. 

Saburota stood and walked over to Yukio quickly, too quickly. Yukio swallowed harshly, taking a half step back almost reflexively as the monster who haunted his nightmares approached.

“Are you running, Okumura? Still?” Saburota asked lightly, stopping to stand close (too close, far too close). “Come now, surely you’re past that by now,”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Yukio snarled, biting back the urge to bare his teeth because that was not a human urge in the slightest. His eyes throbbed. Saburota stepped forward and leaned against the frame of the doorway, looking Yukio over with a look of amazement and amusement. 

“I suppose you could say that I am happy. I’m happier that you’re here though,” Saburota remarked.  Yukio scowled.

“Why?” he demanded.

“The fact that you’re here tells me you’re past the breaking point,” Saburota explained mildly. Yukio blinked, and then grinned something that felt sick and twisted even to him and started laughing.

“Oh my god,” he gasped in between laughs, shaking his head. “You think I’m here to join you?” 

Saburota looked slightly surprised. Yukio pushed up his glasses and looked up at Saburota, a familiar coldness seeping in to his veins.

“No, I’m here to kill you,” 

Yukio began shooting. He knew he was hitting his target, who only had the opportunity to move slightly. The reloading period was the most dangerous one though, since it gave Saburota the chance to close the gap between the two of them and curl a bloodied hand around Yukio’s throat. Yukio still shot Saburota as much as he could before Saburota threw him back into the room, effectively knocking the wind out of him.

“Now now Okumura. That was not nice,” he remarked calmly, kicking the door closed with a definite click. Yukio sat up slowly, his head spinning for a moment as his former confidence and mania drained out of him. “As you mentioned, we are alone in this area. I doubt the sound of gunshots will bring anyone here, but if you continue to make such a racket I’m sure someone will come to investigate,” Saburota crouched in front of Yukio, a look of calculating pity in his eyes. That pity reignited hatred in Yukio’s chest and he lunged for the other, driven completely by a desire to kill. He pinned Saburota with a surprising degree of success, glaring down at him and fumbling for his gun.

“Now what are you going to do with me?” Saburota asked, his voice still mild and calm. That pissed Yukio off, so he set down his gun quickly to wrap his hands around Saburota’s throat in an effort to shut the monster up. Saburota laughed until he couldn’t anymore due to the restrictions on his breathing. He still wasn’t dying, which annoyed Yukio greatly. Saburota’s skin was heating up to the point where it hurt Yukio’s hands and he had to pull them away. He still stayed, sitting on Saburota’s stomach, groping around for his gun to kill the monster under him. Saburota gasped and sucked in air in a way that felt satisfying in all the wrong ways, ways that made the nerves at the base of Yukio’s spine buzz pleasantly. That almost distracted Yukio from his throbbing hands, but not quite. The skin on his palms was an angry scary red and even with his calloused fingers, holding his gun felt like it did when he was young and still learning how to shoot.

Yukio needed a knife.

“You’re not going to kill me,” Saburota remarked softly.

“Shut up,” Yukio shook his head, an idea sparking in the back of his head. Even though his hands throbbed, he brought his gun up to his head. 

The sensation of a cold muzzle against his temple was getting too familiar now, along with the disgusting slurry of hatred and despair and self-loathing that came with it. That being said, if Yukio brought out that disgusting satanic power of his, it would surely kill Saburota and end this. 

Saburoat sat up very quickly, knocking Yukio back a little. He put his warm (too warm) hands on either side of Yukio’s face, his one hand shifting the gun out of the way. Yukio froze, completely startled by the action of being held in a manner that almost felt gentle. 

“I’ll shoot,” Yukio hissed.

“Don’t,” Saburota shook his head, his voice dropping to something soft and low that made the hairs along Yukio’s neck stand on end. “There’s an easier way to do this,”

“No there isn’t. I’m going to kill you,” Yukio told Saburota coldly, feeling horribly detached from the situation even though his heart was pounding and his lips were trembling and his throat was closing up. 

“No, you’re not,” Saburota shook his head, taking Yukio’s hand in his own and bringing it down to his side. The other hand stayed at Yukio’s cheek, deliciously warm and surprisingly comforting. “You do not have to keep hurting yourself,” 

“I...” Yukio trailed off, unable to speak, unable to think. Tears began spilling silently down his cheeks and he slowly let go of his gun. Yukio shoved his glasses off and began uselessly wiping at his eyes. Each breath came in shudders, and a clean handkerchief was pressed into Yukio’s hands quietly. Yukio accepted it, trying hard not to think about anything, not to think about how he was crying in his enemy’s lap and his enemy was just letting him.

“Why are you doing this,” Yukio muttered softly.

“I told you, I wanted to be friends,” Saburota replied softly. “I’d rather not kill you,” 

“I don’t want to die,” Yukio mumbled into Saburota’s handkerchief. It smelled nice. 

“Excellent,” Saburota agreed. Yukio glanced up at Saburota and glared at him squintingly. “Although that look you’re giving me tells me you still want to kill me,”

“Hm,” Yukio muttered in response, trying to still seem cold and in control. Saburota did not look like he was buying it, so Yukio sighed and began folding the handkerchief in his hand anxiously, diverting his gaze. “I’m tried.”

“Then rest.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this may turn into a series if I'm not careful. Also happy birthday to that anon!


End file.
